


The Blanket

by poorly_animated



Category: Hunter X Hunter
Genre: First Time, First Time Blow Jobs, First Time Bottoming, Fluff and Smut, Friends to Lovers, Getting Together, Idiots in Love, M/M, Mutual Pining, Pre-Canon, Sharing Body Heat, Sleepy Cuddles
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-30
Updated: 2020-11-29
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:15:34
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 17,910
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27788107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/poorly_animated/pseuds/poorly_animated
Summary: It gets cold in the desert when the sun goes down. Phinks and Feitan arrive early for a job, but there's only one blanket. And they're both idiots (but especially Phinks).
Relationships: Feitan/Phinks (Hunter X Hunter), Feitan/Phinx
Comments: 7
Kudos: 111





	1. Bedbugs

**Author's Note:**

> Phinks & Feitan have unknown ages, but in this pre-canon story, they're roughly 19 or 20. Smut in chapter 3.

As the sun faded, the desert air shrank itself into a thin, cold wind, whisking up great clouds of sand and whistling through the shoddy excuses for shutters tacked to the outside of the old factory. Phinks shivered. All he had was his tunic draped across his shoulders, and his socks were wearing thin from days of walking. He and Feitan had crossed a seemingly endless forest before arriving in this desert outpost. They’d bickered about trusting the safehouse coordinates, but once they’d arrived, it was clear there was no other option. This rusting building was originally a factory of some kind, but the machines had long been stripped of any useful or identifying components. What had once passed for a working town was now a messy collection of crumbling sheds, dropped like broken feathers around the hulking corpse of the central building. Phinks didn’t trust how damn empty everything was. He was used to the desert, of course, but there wasn’t a single living soul in about a ten mile radius (at least, he thought that’s how far they’d scanned their surroundings). He huffed and rolled over, rubbing the flimsy legs of his tracksuit together for warmth. A stubby candle flickering in the corner of the dark room was the only indication that his partner was still awake and reading. 

“Hey, Fei?” Phinks called after a few more minutes of wondering if his toes would fall off. The dark-haired boy in the corner glanced up at him without responding. Phinks swallowed. “Did... do you think there’s any more blankets anywhere? I’m cold as shit, man.” 

Feitan just shrugged. “Did you find? Why ask me? Don’t be baby,” he mumbled through his high collar. Phinks grumbled vaguely and sat up, trying to figure out what he should do. He realized with a start that his friend was trembling. “You c-cold, Feitan?” Phinks teased. His own teeth were chattering. 

Feitan shrugged again, his pile of black hair sinking lower into his cowl. “F-fine,” he stammered back. The blonde grinned, rubbing his hands together excitedly. “Maybe we should just s-start a f-fire,” he chattered, “Get s-some damn heat in-n this sh-shithole.” His partner shook his head firmly. 

“Too dangerous.” 

“Aww, c’mon, F-Fei, there’s n-nobody around for m-miles, and we’re not gonna be able to s-sleep like this,” Phinks protested. He was rummaging through the boxes they’d already examined, hoping to find something, anything they’d missed that he could use to warm up. 

Feitan glared at him, two narrow eyes over a small shadow. “Speak f-for Phinks,” he teased, “I not cold. And dangerous for building, not s-spies. No one around.”

“Oh,” Phinks replied absentmindedly. He wandered through a sagging doorway, hugging himself tightly. A bolted closet lured him over. One quick punch and the lock was gone, but the shock of the cold metal made Phinks shout a quick curse. 

“Phinks?” Feitan asked from the other room. 

“Oh, fuck,” the blonde groaned. The closet was full of blankets, moth-eaten and moldy blankets that started to disintegrate under his touch. He felt Feitan appear next to him more than he heard or saw his movements. The smaller man scoffed. “Useless,” he muttered, tugging his scarf higher. Phinks sighed and kept digging. He got lucky: there was one thick blanket still in shrink-wrapped plastic stuck under the pile of rotting fibers, the plush pile pressing up against its clear sleeve. 

“Fei, check it out!” he crowed. When he turned around, he grinned at the brief flash of excitement in his friend’s eyes. Feitan quickly settled his expression and sliced the bag open, tugging the soft blanket free. “Mine,” he proclaimed as he dashed away.

Phinks gaped angrily after Feitan for a few seconds before chasing him, letting a frustrated curse loose into the empty room. A sudden gust of sand-filled wind caused Feitan to hiss and duck his eyes beneath his cowl, distracting him just long enough for Phinks to tackle him and start wrenching the blanket free. 

“I fucking found it, Fei, give it to me!”

“And I steal! Mine!”

“NO! That’s not how that works—get off—GIVE IT BACK, FEITAN!”

“NO!”

They rolled around a bit longer, each one wary of tearing the blanket as they yanked at it. Phinks suddenly crushed Feitan in a one-armed hug, flipping him onto his stomach and ripping the blanket from his arms. “HA!” He barked, leaping up for the corner he’d claimed earlier. Feitan snarled and kicked at his ankles, missing by a few inches. Phinks just laughed and rolled himself into a tight burrito. 

“Come and get it, Fei,” he teased, “it’s mine now.” His friend glared at him and he couldn’t help giggling. 

“F-fuck you,” Feitan growled. He was still pretending not to feel the cold, but there was just enough light for Phinks to see his friend’s arms wrapped tightly around his torso. A small twinge of remorse tugged at his stomach. 

“We could share?” Phinks offered quietly, wincing as the words left his mouth. He should know better than that, he reminded himself, know better than to try to be any closer to his friend. Feitan had never been one for physical affection or sharing space, not like Chrollo or Uvogin. But the idea of holding his friend had taken root in Phinks’ mind years earlier, so many years that Phinks found it difficult to pinpoint the moment he knew his thoughts about Feitan were more than platonic. He supposed the question had been waiting to bubble up for long enough that it could no longer hide in his throat. 

The offer hung in the air for an unbearably long minute. “We could,” Feitan finally responded. The words came out slow and quiet, so soft that they barely punctured the howling wind. “Good idea,” he added nervously. Some long-buried private thought was breaking its way free. He decided to move before he could change his mind, blowing out the candle as he drifted across the room. It _was_ cold, after all, he reasoned with himself. And it would be more comfortable than trying to sleep curled up in the strange position he’d been reading in. Just as the panic started to prick at his ears he reached Phinks, dropping to the ground next to him and tugging at the blanket. “Share,” Feitan grunted softly. His friend lifted a shaky arm, opening a small cavern in the fabric that seemed to be sucking Feitan closer. The small man slipped out of his robe quickly and ducked under, noting the hitch in his friend’s breath as he removed his clothes. The cloak clattered as it hit the floor, the only indication of Feitan’s collection of weaponry cleverly stowed within. 

“Won’t you be colder?” Phinks asked nervously. He hadn’t seen Feitan without his robe in weeks. His small frame seemed impossibly delicate in the faint light of the moon. 

Feitan shrugged as casually as he could and slid under the blanket, tugging it tightly around his back. He could feel the warmth of his friend’s chest mere inches from his freezing arms. “The knives,” he murmured, an excuse he hoped was believable. 

Phinks swallowed and tried not to think about how very close his small friend was, how easy it would be to pull him closer and wrap him in his arms. “R-Right, of course,” he stammered. Under the blanket, there was no opportunity to appreciate what Feitan was wearing, but Phinks had already committed the shadowy silhouette to memory: slim trousers with odd patches and a dark shirt cut wide enough that it likely exposed his collarbones, hanging loosely from his torso and stopping at his thin wrists. The blonde shivered and his friend’s intense stare grew inquisitive. 

“Still cold?” Feitan whispered. 

“Oh, uh, y-yeah,” Phinks replied nervously. He wasn’t sure what he was afraid of but then Feitan inched a bit closer, placing a freezing hand on his chest. It was cold enough to feel through the two layers Phinks wore. The blonde stopped breathing. 

Feitan hummed thoughtfully and patted him twice before removing his hand. “Feel warm,” he observed passively. Phinks nodded. He couldn’t remember how to talk. 

A sharp gust of wind made both boys duck their heads beneath the blanket, squeezing their eyes shut against the flying particles of sand. Phinks knocked into Feitan’s head and jumped back so clumsily he yanked the blanket away, producing an angry yelp from the small man. 

“Phinks!” Feitan hissed, “Bastard!” 

He scrambled after the blonde and tugged the blanket roughly, pulling it from his friend’s shoulders and sinking into the tiny patch that had begun warming to his body heat. Phinks gasped and ducked back into the small shelter. Without thinking, he dragged Feitan closer. They were suddenly very close, so close Phinks could feel Feitan’s exhale curl across his chest like a small ghost. He jerked his hand back from where it had fallen on his friend’s arm. 

“S-sorry Fei,” he stammered. Soft black hair bobbed quietly as the other nodded, but against all odds, neither of them moved to distance themselves. Feitan was distracted. He could hear Phinks breathing, a raspy, anxious sound as if the large man was trying to stay perfectly still. He could also hear his heartbeat—in fact, it was racing so aggressively that it seemed palpable, reverberating in Feitan’s own chest and heating his veins with the thought of all that blood pumping in such close proximity. He marveled at how alive his friend sounded at that moment. 

Phinks didn’t pray but he found himself wishing silently that Feitan wouldn’t register the obvious signs of his anxiety. He knew it was hopeless: his friend was a passionate interrogator, highly skilled in detecting the slightest changes in a victim’s body language. Still, he thought, if there was any mercy left for someone like him, Feitan would chalk it up to leftover adrenaline from their tussles. A bony knee knocked into his thigh and he gasped involuntarily. 

“Why scared?” Feitan asked quietly. 

Phinks’ mind exploded in a panicked string of curses, but he managed to adopt a nonchalant tone. “I’m not scared,” he mumbled, “just—just cold, I guess.” 

“Phinks,” Feitan said in a low voice. It was his “don’t fuck with me” voice, an ominous tone the blonde had grown used to hearing ever since they collided with each other as children searching for scraps.

“Are we too close?” Phinks blurted suddenly. “Am I being weird—should I just stay up and keep watch, and you can have the blanket?” 

The small man beside him shrugged. “Not needed,” he murmured softly. If Phinks didn’t know better, he would’ve said Feitan sounded shy. A gentle pressure on his chest alerted him to the backs of Feitan’s thin fingers resting against his heart. “Sound worried,” he said quietly, “and zipper no hurt you?” Feitan slipped a finger under the zipper pull and flicked it upwards, causing the blonde to stop breathing again. 

“N-no,” Phinks managed, “it’s—I mean, it’s a little, uh, odd, but I’m fine, really.” 

“Hmmm.” Feitan wasn’t sure why he cared what Phinks wore to bed all of a sudden. Perhaps it was his own insecurity about shedding his cloak—he rarely appeared without it, even in front of his oldest friend. He felt very small and exposed in his underclothes. He inched slightly closer. “Should share heat from body,” he mumbled. He smirked to himself at the sharp hitch in his friend’s breath, wondering privately if these nervous reactions were more than shock. Before Phinks could come up with a response, Feitan was tugging the zipper down, opening his jacket around the pale shirt he wore underneath. 

“Fei, what are—shit,” Phinks gasped. Small, cold hands wound their way between the two layers of fabric, settling awkwardly around his sides. 

“Hmmm,” Feitan sighed happily, “warm.” Without thinking he was pressing closer to his friend’s body, burying himself in the warm interior of his tracksuit jacket. His movements seemed to be making Phinks even warmer. 

“Feitan?” Phinks asked in a choked voice. He was struggling to believe his senses: his skin told him there was a cold body pressed against him and arms wrapped around his sides, his nose inhaled the dusty scent of candle wax, his eyes strained in the barely-present light to convince him of a small explosion of black hair mere inches from his face. But his thoughts refused to believe that all of those sensory alerts could be connected to _Feitan_ , as distant and cold as he usually was. 

“Quiet,” Feitan murmured sleepily. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d been so close to another person, but his body’s instincts had taken over from his mind’s defenses as soon as the opportunity presented itself. In the freezing desert night, his exposed skin craved warmth more than his isolationist thoughts craved solitude. 

Phinks nodded dumbly above him and slowly, slowly moved an arm around his quivering torso. “Is this okay?” He asked nervously. 

Feitan snickered and tugged him closer. “Still c-cold,” he stammered. He was gambling on his own interpretation of the other man’s racing heartbeat: Feitan guessed (and maybe, privately, hoped) that Phinks might be nervous because he was sexually attracted to Feitan and afraid of being found out. He’d caught him staring at him rather dreamily a few times during that long walk, but brushed it off as distractibility. Now, however, they were close enough to test this theory. The chance to tease Phinks was not to be passed up. 

Phinks took a deep breath and wrapped his arms tightly around Feitan, pulling him close to his chest and slinging one leg lazily around his skinny hips. His cheeks felt hot in the cold wind. None of this seemed real, but he thought he caught a slight tensing in his friend’s body as he embraced him. Maybe Feitan was nervous, too—an idea that barely fit inside his understanding of the small spider. Phinks decided to play at playing. 

“You’re the perfect little teddy bear, Fei,” he yawned dramatically, “if only you weren’t so cold and pointy.” He made a point of snuggling his friend and nuzzling his head, squeezing him as tightly as he dared. If this was the only time he’d ever hug Feitan, he wanted to make it count. 

Feitan let out a small sound of shock and squirmed awkwardly against the sudden tangle of his friend’s limbs. “Phinks,” he giggled nervously, “Why your leg so warm?” He slipped one of his hands down to rest on the larger man’s thigh, grinning in the dark when it was jerked away in panic. 

“S-sorry,” Phinks gasped, “I’m just, I was just, trying to be funny.” He released Feitan entirely, scooting as far away from him as he could under the soft blanket. 

“Hmmmm,” Feitan hummed mischievously. He inched closer again, gazing up at the shadow that was Phinks’ face, smiling to himself at the fear he saw in his bright eyes. “Phinks joke, but cannot take joke, yes?” He teased. 

Phinks shivered. “I can take a joke just fine,” he snapped. 

Feitan tugged at his jacket again. “I think of good joke,” he snickered, “I wonder if Phinks laugh, too.” 

The blonde’s eyes widened and he briefly wondered if his friend was about to kiss him, but Feitan just yawned and curled his head under the blanket again. He was surprised how much he liked hearing Phinks’s racing heart. The familiar urge to make that heartbeat obey him grew in his chest, but he struggled to understand why he wasn’t picturing his knives in that moment. Perhaps it was the simplicity of knowing the tiniest movement of his body seemed to send his friend’s blood into a panicked state: he wouldn’t need any tools to torment Phinks, his hands were doing just fine. But did he want to torture Phinks? As soon as the thought crossed his mind Feitan felt his stomach drop into a cold pit. He did not, he realized. Yes, he wanted to tease Phinks, but for some reason he couldn’t understand he was reluctant to cause true suffering here. Feitan couldn’t remember the last time he’d felt fear but he supposed that this cold, furious denial of his current situation might be that emotion he saw so frequently in others. He recalled his friend’s raucous laughter at an unfortunate fool they’d robbed a few days earlier and felt his cheeks warm at the strange desire to hear that sound again. 

The shutters banged angrily above their heads but neither Phinks nor Feitan reacted, each completely absorbed in the world underneath that blanket. Phinks pressed a bit closer. When Feitan didn’t move, the blonde carefully draped an arm around him again, tugging him back into his jacket. “Sharing heat is a good idea,” he mumbled quietly. He felt Feitan nod against his chest and closed his eyes, taking another deep breath. With their bodies so close, Phinks could feel every delicate joint connecting his friend’s limbs. Having his arms around Feitan was nice, surprisingly easy, as though their bodies had been built to fit together. Cold air nipped at his ears and he ducked his head again, burying his face in his friend’s hair. 

“Is this weird?” Phinks mumbled nervously. The spiky black tangle enveloping his face shook slightly. 

“Is fine,” Feitan said quietly. 

Phinks tightened the arm around his back and gently pressed his palm flat, rubbing slow circles across his spine. “Are you feeling warmer?” He whispered. His own body felt ready to burst into flames from having the smaller man wrapped in his embrace. 

Feitan shrugged. “Little bit,” he murmured into Phinks’ shirt. He suddenly rolled over, pressing up against his friend’s body and trying to fit himself inside the open jacket. Phinks held his breath. Feitan’s slim fingers found his hand and tugged it around his torso, holding it in place by the wrist. “Phinks very warm,” he observed quietly, “like blanket alive. Blood is warm.” 

“Uh huh,” Phinks responded anxiously. His stomach seemed to be trying to climb up his throat. Feitan was still holding his wrist, absentmindedly drumming two fingers against his exposed skin. 

“Funny,” the small man murmured, “I not want you to bleed.”

“What?” 

“Blood better inside of Phinks. Not outside of Phinks. Good like this,” Feitan whispered. His tongue felt heavy at such an admission. “No need to make you feel pain, you already scared.” 

“I’m—I’m not scared,” Phinks protested weakly. Was Feitan saying he didn’t want to torture him? That couldn’t be right. He couldn’t tell where this was going, but his thoughts were running wild. He just hoped he was still too cold to get hard. Feitan shifted against him and he squeezed his eyes shut, trying to picture dead worms or something else that would stop his reactions.

Feitan snickered, amused by the obvious lie. “Yes, scared,” he teased softly. His own heart was pounding at this point, caught off guard by such unfamiliar territory. Though the large man was clearly putty in his hands, there was something deeply unnerving to Feitan about how badly he wanted to be wrapped up in his heat. He tried to tell himself it was just that: the heat. Phinks breathed into his hair and he smiled involuntarily, thoughts drifting in the strange sensation of feeling safe. 

“Why scared, Phinks?” Feitan asked quietly. He could practically hear the blonde’s gears turning. Without waiting for a response, he slipped his fingers between his friend’s trembling knuckles, pulling them tighter around his hand. The sudden stiffness gripping Phinks’ entire body gave him the answer he sought. 

Phinks gulped down the cold, angry air, trying in vain to come up with an answer. “I already told you,” he stammered, “I’m not—I’m not scared. Why, uh—w-what are you doing with my hand?” 

Feitan didn’t respond. Instead, he slowly pulled their hands to his lips, pressing his friend’s thick fingers against his cold mouth. His lips parted and he bit down, hard enough to draw blood. 

Phinks yelped and jumped back, wringing his injured hand. “What was that for?” He hissed. 

Feitan rolled over to face him, shoving the blanket down so both of their faces were uncovered. “No lie, Phinks,” he growled, “I no like lies.” 

The blonde nervously sucked at his bleeding finger, wishing the moon would somehow grow dimmer. “I’m not—I’m not lying,” he protested again. Feitan kicked his shin, hard, and he winced. “I’m not—I dunno,” he gasped painfully, “I don’t know, Fei, I don’t think I’m scared, this is just—different!” 

Feitan scowled at him over the edge of the blanket. “Your idea,” he muttered. Phinks nodded a bit too enthusiastically. 

“Yeah, yeah it was, I guess, I mean, I dunno, I didn’t think—I thought you didn’t like being touched, man, I just don’t wanna, like, weird you out or anything, make this, uh, weird. For us. So I guess I’m a little scared of that, or, of you kicking me again. Yeah,” he babbled. His face felt so hot he knew he had to be bright pink, even in the freezing desert night. 

Feitan snorted and inched closer. “Who say I no like?” He demanded. “I never say. You imagine.” He was definitely enjoying this, he decided. It was very entertaining to see Phinks so nervous, so desperate to come up with an answer for him. Even so, he was getting irritated. Phinks was still keeping something from him. He jabbed an accusatory finger into his chest. “You tell truth now, Phinks,” he growled quietly, “stop telling half-truth. You bad at lies.” 

“That is the truth!” Phinks sputtered. He knew it wasn’t the whole truth, but he vowed to himself that Feitan would have to truly torture a confession out of him before he ever admitted anything more. His friend might be cold enough to accept sharing a blanket, but there was no chance in hell he’d ever have any interest in Phinks. Not like that. 

Feitan snorted again and suddenly rolled their bodies over, pinning Phinks to the floor as he sat on his stomach. He formed his hand into a claw, holding sharp nails against the blonde’s throbbing jugular vein. He pressed down just hard enough to send a single drop of blood rolling down the warm neck. 

“Lies,” he hissed, “stop lies, Phinks. Stop now.” 

Phinks shook his head anxiously, wincing as the motion made his wound a bit wider. “I keep telling you, Fei, I didn’t expect this, that’s all!” 

“Hmmm.” Feitan slowly dragged his fingers along Phinks’ jaw, smiling blithely at the way his friend trembled under his touch. “Something more,” he teased quietly. 

“I don’t know what you want me to say,” Phinks replied breathlessly. 

Feitan leaned down, stopping a few inches from his panicked face with a devious smirk. He withdrew his claws and gently patted his friend’s chest, letting his hand drift almost to his stomach. “What is Phinks thinking?” He asked quietly. 

The large man shifted uncomfortably. His breathing was shallow, a fact not lost on Feitan. 

“What is Phinks thinking?” Feitan repeated in a lower voice, slowly moving his hand around that broad torso. 

Phinks opened and closed his mouth uselessly, desperately wondering if Feitan understood what he was doing. “Fei,” he rasped, “seriously, man. I just wanna get some sleep, please.” 

“Hmmmm,” Feitan hummed thoughtfully. “Still cold?” 

Phinks was too frightened to answer. 

“You shake,” Feitan observed cruelly, “must be cold. Maybe need alive blanket.” 

Before Phinks could finish thinking about what that meant, Feitan was laying flat on top of him, spreading out lazily and wrapping his arms loosely around his neck. He pulled the blanket tight around them and nuzzled into the warm crook of his friend’s neck, playfully licking the blood he’d drawn there. 

Phinks emitted a noise somewhere between a groan and a shriek, the sensation of Feitan’s tongue against his skin sending a shockwave through his body. His hands moved on their own, wrapping tightly around the small figure draped atop him and squeezing it closer, instinctively gripping his spiky hair in one broad palm. 

“D-don’t,” he started, but Feitan pressed his lips to the cut again, slowly dragging his tongue across the tiny wound. Phinks whimpered and slammed his knees together, trying to remind himself that his friend was just messing with him. He felt sick at the realization that Feitan had guessed his less platonic thoughts. The man enjoyed torture, after all. He’d tease Phinks until he broke, and then he’d likely tell Shalnark about how weak Phinks could be. The idea that Feitan might reciprocate the attraction never crossed the blonde’s mind. His eyes flew open as cold lips parted around unbroken skin and gently sucked, so shocked by the uncharacteristic tenderness of the motion that he flung Feitan from his body and scrambled across the floor.

Feitan sat up angrily, pulling the blanket close around his shoulders. “Why do that?” He demanded. Phinks looked like a wild animal, panting for breath on all fours halfway across the room. 

“What the fuck was that?” He yelped. “Fei, why are you fucking with me tonight?!” 

“Joke not funny?” Feitan hissed. He wasn’t sure why he was so offended—after all, he’d licked Phinks to tease him, hadn’t he?—but something in the pit of his stomach churned with rage at the rejection. He’d never experienced intimacy other than the proximity to another person’s last moments, and his mind was foggy with the confusing need to be closer to the warm body sharing the blanket with him. The body, he reminded himself, that belonged to Phinks. A body nearly as familiar as his shadow, but suddenly much more tangible than the flickering shape of his friend racing along behind him. 

“No!” Phinks shouted, “Joke NOT funny! I don’t—you can’t—you can’t just LICK people, man, do you—do you even know what that could do to a guy? You’re—stop fucking teasing me, Fei, goddamn! You can have the fucking blanket!” He sat back awkwardly, pulling his knees to his chest in an attempt to hide the bulge forming between his legs. “Maybe I am afraid of you, fuck, and who wouldn’t be?” He spat angrily. He felt dizzy. The wind danced across the wet patch on his neck and he wiped the saliva off, trying to make himself forget the feeling of Feitan’s mouth against his skin. 

Feitan slouched slightly and leaned forwards, staring at the ground. “Good, then,” he muttered. There was a dull, unfamiliar ache in his chest that he wanted to ignore, but he was still angry that he felt anything at all about this interaction. He huffed quietly and turned his back on Phinks, wrapping the blanket around him tightly. 

“Should be scared,” he mumbled into the fabric, “Phinks easy to kill.” 

He scowled at the wall as a small, unpleasant truth tugged at the back of his mind: it would not be easy to kill Phinks, not anymore. Of course, Feitan had been aware of that fact for a few years. He remembered thinking it for the first time—trembling in his friend’s arms as a small child, a useless broken leg flopping behind him as Phinks dragged them away from some particularly powerful assailants—and how sweet the realization had tasted then, the new knowledge that he considered the strange blonde boy to be his friend. But he’d been able to tell himself he could still kill Phinks if needed until about two years earlier. They’d been walking through a small city in the Kukan’yu Kingdom when Phinks had laughed loudly, picked up a small stone, and chucked it through a nearby window. The noise had startled Feitan just enough that he didn’t notice what Phinks was stealing until it was shoved into his hands and the taller boy was grabbing his wrist and sprinting away. It was a small book in Feitan’s native language, printed in such thin lettering that he marveled at how his friend had ever noticed it. That day, laughing in an alley together, was the first time Feitan had imagined kissing Phinks. The thought had scared him then just as much as it did now: it was an unexpected weakness, a foolish daydream that he couldn’t seem to shake. Tonight, curled in this plastic-scented blanket, shivering in the desert air, Feitan clenched his fists angrily at the thought that he’d misread his friend’s anxiety for reciprocity. 

Phinks zipped his jacket up and rubbed his arms, his teeth already chattering in the cruel wind. “Fuck, it’s so fucking cold,” he whined. The bundled figure ignored his complaint. 

“F-Fei, I’m cold, man,” he tried, “c-can we share again?” He was still being ignored. 

Phinks grunted in frustration and stamped his feet, hopping up to stalk towards Feitan. “C’mon man, what’s your deal t-tonight? Didn’t you want m-me to freak out?” He stammered. He nudged the blanket with a threadbare sock, baffled by his friend’s reaction. “Feitan, you there?” 

Phinks endured the silence for a few shivering seconds before sighing loudly and getting down on his knees to shake his friend. Feitan grunted something rude and he rolled his eyes, yanking the blanket up and slipping under it. 

“Fuck you, man,” Phinks snapped, catching his friend’s leg before the kick could connect with his knee. “I don’t know why you insist on being so damn weird,” he added meanly, “I was trying to be nice and share with you and you had to make it a whole thing.” Feitan snorted and tried to take his leg back, but Phinks gripped him tightly. His hand was big enough to cover the other man’s entire knee. Phinks stared down at his thumb, watching it stroke across Feitan’s thigh as though it belonged to someone else. He could just make out a hint of pale skin poking through the strange cutouts in his friend’s pants. 

“I’m not—I wouldn’t be easy to kill, you dick,” he continued angrily. “I could kick your ass any day.” 

Feitan laughed at this, a high-pitched wheeze that rattled through his small frame endearingly. “You?” He teased. “No chance, you too scared.” 

“I’M NOT FUCKING SCARED, FEI! I’M JUST TIRED OF YOUR SHIT!” Phinks shouted. He winced as his friend covered his ears and leaned back, writhing in his grasp. He let go and mumbled an apology. 

Feitan slapped him. “You say I no like touching, I think you no like, Phinks. I think you scared,” the small man hissed. “You scared me and scared to tell, tell me, baichi, we two. Always us.” The words were escaping him in his confusion, and he grew even more frustrated at his own inability to communicate what he wanted to say. 

“How you, how you fear ME?” Feitan snapped. His chest still ached. He didn’t like the idea of Phinks being genuinely afraid of him, the only person he thought he could be human around. Even the rest of the troupe couldn’t be considered his friends the way he’d convinced himself he and Phinks were. Colleagues, of course, but if he’d been in that warehouse with anyone else he never would’ve trusted them enough to crawl under a blanket without any weapons. “Fuck you,” he spat. 

The wind howled through the empty building as Phinks tried to figure out what his friend was upset about. “Fei, I’m lost,” he said finally, “I don’t know why you’re mad at me for getting freaked out that you licked my blood.” 

Feitan suddenly felt very cold. Of course Phinks found that unsettling, he thought, and of course he’d been wrong about Phinks being attracted to him. The realization that Phinks was afraid of Feitan _the man_ and not Feitan _the murderer_ twisted in his gut like one of his own knives. 

“Was just joke,” he mumbled sadly, “but you no laugh.” 

“Oh,” Phinks said. He was still confused. “You just kinda spooked me, I guess,” he said nervously, “and that was kinda, uhhh... My neck’s pretty, um, s-sensitive, uh... I’m not sure how to say this.” Something howled and he jumped, throwing a protective arm around Feitan without thinking. Feitan laughed at him. 

“See, you always scared,” he teased quietly. He pushed a bit closer, wanting to hear his friend’s heartbeat again. Phinks stiffened around him and Feitan sighed, pulling back. 

“I can watch,” Feitan said softly. He sat up, rubbing his arms as he reached for his cloak. 

“Thought you said we didn’t need to keep watch?” Phinks asked anxiously. He felt like he’d ruined something without knowing it was there to be ruined. 

The smaller man shrugged. “Baichi scared, so I watch. You sleep.” He could practically taste his friend’s fear in the air, but his refusal to admit it was getting tiring. Feitan wasn’t used to not getting what he wanted out of someone, and what was worse was his inability to commit to breaking Phinks. He would rather bury his nose in a book than torture. 

“I’m not—“ Phinks started, but thought better of it. “Fei, I like touching,” he said lamely, “I love hugs, I thought that was obvious.” 

“Hugs?” Feitan asked quietly. He was holding his cloak, staring blankly at the embroidered skull on the neck. The word was vaguely familiar, but not enough to strike a chord. Phinks laughed and swallowed the noise when Feitan glared at him, sitting up slowly with the blanket still wrapped around his shoulder. 

“You’ve never heard the word ‘hug,’ have you, man?” He asked gently. 

Feitan shrugged. “I think Paku say? Sound like bugs,” he observed. There was just enough light to see the grin splitting his friend’s face, a bright flash enlivening his masculine features with a boyish glee. 

“Get over here, asshole,” Phinks said gruffly. He flung his arms around Feitan, pulling him into a crushing embrace as they knelt awkwardly on the concrete. Feitan’s breath flew out of his chest and refused to return. Phinks smiled into his hair and rubbed his back gently before releasing him. 

“That’s a hug, Fei,” he laughed. He ruffled his friend’s dark hair and pulled the blanket up again, shivering slightly. 

“Oh,” was all Feitan could manage. 

He felt dizzy. He’d known that Phinks was strong—he was an enhancer, after all, and the second-best arm wrestler in the troupe—but it had never occurred to him to associate something as gentle as an embrace with those powerful, muscular arms. He wasn’t used to feeling so very small. “Hug nice,” he mused, feeling his cheeks warm at the admission. 

“So... you gonna lay down, or what?” Phinks asked after an awkward silence. “It’s, uh, it’s warmer if we share.” Feitan nodded absentmindedly and slid under the blanket again, inching closer to Phinks. 

“Earlier we hug,” he said inquisitively, “like this.” He rolled to face away from Phinks, pulling his arms around him and pressing himself against his torso. He smirked at the hitch in his friend’s breath. 

“Yeah,” Phinks breathed, “this is also like a hug.” 

“Hmmmm,” the small man hummed. He leaned into the warmth behind him. His eyes were starting to close when he felt a large, warm hand envelop one of his, tenderly rubbing his freezing fingers. 

“You still feel so cold, Fei,” Phinks whispered in his ear. 

Feitan nodded, unsure how to respond. He tried to concentrate on the sensation of the thick, rough fingers caressing his own slender ones. “Yes, cold,” he murmured, though that was no longer entirely true. 

“Why hug but no alive blanket?” Feitan asked suddenly. Phinks frowned in confusion, heavy eyelids drooping as he tried to remember what Feitan meant. 

“Oh, you laying on top of me? No, that... I mean, if you actually want to, sure,” he said sleepily, “but I can’t help you if you lick me again.” 

Feitan snickered and turned around, pushing Phinks onto his back. He crawled halfway onto his body and pulled the blanket tighter, letting one hand fall dangerously close to the blonde’s hair. Their bodies were entirely pressed together but he found himself wanting more, wondering how to make their two forms become even closer. 

“Still cold,” he murmured into his friend’s shoulder. Phinks nodded and wrapped his arms around him, burying his face in his hair. 

Feitan waited for Phinks’ breathing to slow before moving again, carefully inching his way back up to the small cut he’d given him earlier. He felt a bit intoxicated from the muddled smells of his friend’s blood, hair gel, and cigarettes. “Phinks,” he murmured thoughtlessly, “Us, we...” 

“Mmmhm,” the blonde rumbled. His arms grew a bit tighter, one broad hand resting firmly between Feitan’s shoulder blades. “Yeah, Fei?” He breathed sleepily. 

“Nothing,” Feitan whispered. 

“This is cool,” Phinks murmured. Feitan nodded, the brushing motion of his hair causing Phinks to giggle slightly. “You’re very soft, Fei,” he sighed, nuzzling his head again, “I’d almost believe you were secretly nice.” 

“Not nice,” Feitan giggled. 

Phinks chuckled, a low noise that made his throat bob before Feitan’s eyes. The transmuter barely resisted the urge to nip that exposed skin. 

“Well, even if you’re not nice, I still like you,” Phinks mumbled dreamily. 

Feitan’s body went numb as he felt what he thought were his friend’s lips brush against his scalp. “Phinks?” He asked anxiously, but a short snore indicated that he wouldn’t be getting any other answers tonight. 


	2. Accismus

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Accismus is a literary device in which a person feigns a lack of interest in something they earnestly desire.

Feitan woke up sweaty, kicking the blanket off as the sun blinded his bleary eyes. He sat up with a start. He was alone. A loud crash below him sent him flying across the room, yanking his sword free from his trick umbrella and waiting by the door with baited breath. Loud whistling pierced the hot silence and he groaned, sheathing his blade.

Phinks came tumbling into their shelter with a few unidentifiable creatures, already skinned and roasted. “Breakfast!” He announced cheerfully. Feitan nodded and snatched one of the sticks of charred meat, gobbling it hungrily while he observed his friend. Phinks was wearing his white robe today, topped with the gleaming pharoah’s Nemes he insisted on sporting. His companion snorted quietly. 

“Baichi, hat stupid,” Feitan snickered. 

Phinks just shrugged and placed it carefully on the floor. “You’re just jealous,” he retorted. “By the way, the dude called. He’s pushing it back another day, so we’re spending another night here.” He sat down heavily on the floor, fiddling with a loose thread in his tunic. 

Feitan gave him a blank stare. Phinks cleared his throat. 

“Do you, uh... do you want me to try to find another blanket, maybe?” He asked nervously. “I feel bad that you had to share with me last night.” He rubbed the sore spot on his neck where Feitan had sliced him, wondering if he might be lucky enough to get a second chance at teaching his friend how to cuddle. 

The question hung in the dusty air for a moment as Feitan chewed his food. “No more blanket, though,” he said thoughtfully. 

Phinks nodded. 

“You warmer than blanket.” Feitan was glad his cowl covered his grin as the blush spread across his friend’s cheeks. Another night of sharing a blanket meant another night of teasing Phinks, something Feitan was definitely looking forward to. He still couldn’t tell if the enhancer’s reactions were purely carnal or if they related to him in particular, but he had no intention of asking outright. Not when he could make Phinks squirm. He leaned back on his hands, letting the front section of his robe fall between his outstretched legs. A slender foot poked Phinks’ knee and the tall man jumped. 

“Well?” Feitan asked in a light sing-song, “Do we sleep together?” He snickered into his collar as his friend’s mouth dropped open. Phinks babbled a wordless, nervous laugh before clearing his throat. 

“Whatever works for you, Fei. Which, uh...” He forced himself to meet Feitan’s devious gaze. “What should we do today?” Phinks accidentally laughed at his own nonchalance, relaxed by the flash of irritation in his friend’s eyes. “Cause we don’t sleep in the daytime, right?” 

Feitan shrugged and crossed his legs under his robe again. “Nothing worth stealing,” he complained. 

Phinks chuckled drily and took a poorly wrapped package from his tunic, tossing it on the concrete with a dull thud. “I still found something,” he boasted. The black-haired spider raised his eyebrows and snatched the item. He made quick work of the clumsy paper, revealing a delicate jade knife. His eyes widened. 

“Isn’t it cool?” Phinks asked excitedly. 

Feitan nodded. He stroked the thin green blade, noticing with a slight shock that it had been freshly sharpened. The tall blonde rocked back and forth and cleared his throat nervously. “Just thought you might like it,” he announced, “I, uh, went out early, but I didn’t wanna wake you up, and I found it in one of the buildings out there.” He watched his friend carefully, seeking any sign that his gift was truly being appreciated. Feitan’s face was mostly hidden. Phinks briefly imagined leaning over and yanking his collar down, but the idea of Feitan smiling made him blush. He fumbled in his pocket and pulled out a cigarette, lighting it with a shaking hand. 

“I, uh, found a bathhouse that’s still leaking. We can clean up a bit.” 

Feitan nodded and tucked the knife into his pocket, embarrassingly enticed by the promise of Phinks with his hair down. He’d woken up from his dream just as his hand had reached the soft blonde locks. 

\-----------------------------

Lukewarm water ran down Phinks’ back. He cursed himself for losing the shampoo he’d originally packed, deciding he’d have to find a drugstore before long. Thick splatters nearby were the only audible sign of Feitan. Phinks felt a bit dizzy. He was finding it hard to think knowing the transmuter was likely nude in such proximity to him. The other source of water suddenly hit the tile in a smooth, regular pattern. Phinks gulped. He stepped out of the stream and shook his body vigorously. 

“Hey, Fei, I’m gonna wash my clothes, too.” A small grunt was the only response. He held his robe under the water, scrubbing it roughly with his tiny bar of soap. Next was the tracksuit, followed by undershirt and boxers. He carefully laid his clothes across the tiled window, trying to arrange them so they’d have the most direct sunlight. The leaking fountain continued to dribble across the floor. Phinks stretched in the sun, smiling unconsciously as the heat rolled across his muscles. He hung halfway out another window and lit a cigarette. 

Feitan was already back in his clothes, deciding they could always be washed later. He glanced up at the room where he’d left Phinks and blinked against the bright sun, suddenly aware of sweat pouring from his palms around the handle of his umbrella. The tall blonde was leaning out of a window, shirtless and smoking. His hair hung loose around his face. Water dripped down around the thin clouds of smoke that floated out from his lips. Feitan scowled. His mind was drifting to an inconvenient place: the feeling of Phinks’ chest under his hands from the night before, muscular and warm and shaking with a pounding heart. It was frustrating, how much he wanted to touch Phinks again. He should be stronger than this. Phinks noticed his umbrella and called down to him. 

“Fei! I’m gonna wait for my shit to dry, but you don’t have to wait for me. Wanna find something we can eat?” Feitan sighed and waved vaguely before shoving his hands in his pockets and drifting away as quickly as he could. 

Phinks slouched in the sun and watched Feitan float across the sand. He was still trying to wrangle with the memory of his small friend curled against him the night before, still confused by the ease with which Feitan had folded into his body. Being so close to him had felt like a dream come true. He’d never imagined Feitan softening like that, never considered that his friend would be able to relax in his arms rather than staying as far away as possible. The memory was driving him crazy. Had Feitan really just been doing it as a joke? Or, Phinks wondered suddenly, was Feitan genuinely happy to sleep pressed up against him? He recalled their conversation that morning, Feitan’s nonchalant insistence that sharing a blanket would still be fine. Feitan poking him playfully and saying they would  _ sleep together _ , for Christ’s sake. Phinks shook his head to himself and lit a second cigarette. There was no way the smaller man knew the double meaning of that phrase—right? Was that something Shalnark would’ve taught him? But not a hug? Phinks noticed anger boiling in his stomach at the idea that Feitan would know about sex but not hugs, that their friends might’ve explained the concept of fucking without mentioning any other type of physical intimacy. Even if they had, he reasoned, there was no sense in thinking that Feitan would be sexually attracted to him of all people. If he even experienced interest in anyone, it was far more likely that he’d be attracted to women, anyways. That had to be why he was teasing Phinks: he’d figured him out. Phinks kicked a loose tile angrily and wrapped a ratty cloth around his hips, frowning at his dripping clothes. There was no way he could ask Feitan about any of this. He’d just have to do his best to act normal tonight.   
  


Sun poured through the grimy factory windows, flooding the space with inescapable heat. Feitan fidgeted uncomfortably under his robe, trying to concentrate on the novel he was reading. He underlined a word. 

“Ahhhsissskmoos?” Feitan mumbled to himself. He’d have to remember to check his dictionary for this one, “accismus,” used in the sentence “She’d always been an expert in the fine art of accismus.” The character had turned down a diamond necklace she’d been pining after for the past few chapters, trying to pretend that she was only interested in the other character’s professional life. Feitan sighed. It seemed stupid to pretend not to want something desirable. 

The whole book was irritating him—a new friend of Machi’s, some girl named Shizuku, had loaned it to him back home. She’d insisted it was about torture but so far the plot revolved around a pair of lovers who’d stopped speaking after a terrible accident. Feitan was reading it anyways, always trying to learn new words. He listened to the wind for a moment before practicing the sentences out loud again, frowning in frustration as his tongue tripped over the syllables and unfamiliar conjugations. He groaned and lay back on the floor, draping the book over his face. Trying to improve his speech was exhausting. Not to mention pointless—his friends seemed to understand him just fine, and his victims always got the message without needing flawless grammar. Feitan blindly slapped his feet against the hot wall, lazily climbing up the concrete until his legs were entirely free of his robe. The cutouts which gave him access to the blades in his trousers allowed the sun’s warmth to penetrate his skin, warming the sides of his calves and his inner thighs. Heat danced across his spider tattoo and he smiled into the pages. He pulled the book up again, furrowing his brow in determination. He could finish this chapter, at least. 

When Phinks finally wandered into the warehouse, he tripped over his feet at the sight of Feitan sprawled on the floor. He managed to catch his legs but not his armful of clothes, spilling the tunic and jacket and socks and shirts across the concrete with a soft thud. Feitan tilted his head back to look at him. His eyes gleamed deviously and Phinks struggled to remember how to breathe. 

“Hey, Fei,” he stammered as casually as he could, “what, uh, whatcha doin there, man?” 

“Reading,” Feitan responded playfully. He dragged one of his feet in a slow arc down the side of the pillar, exposing more of his thighs. He watched his friend’s eyes widen and he smirked under his collar. Phinks had already been sweating in the desert sun but now he was really sweating, cheeks burning as he tried to tear his gaze away from the thin lines of Feitan’s tattoo. 

“Uhh, I, uhh, where,” he babbled, “w-water?” Feitan snorted and waved his hand at their bags. He’d tucked them away in a shady corner, hoping to keep them from overheating. He watched Phinks stumble across the room and smiled at how pink his face had gone. Phinks was still shirtless, a golden halo of hair topping a bronze torso that disappeared into rolled-up track pants. He hadn’t bothered to smooth his hair back yet. Feitan rolled onto his stomach and watched him, memorizing the ripples of obliques and trapeziums and deltoids as his friend rummaged through his duffel bag. As Phinks drank, a few droplets rolled down his tan neck. Feitan allowed himself to imagine licking them off, remembering the salty taste of his friend’s blood and sweat from the night before. The blonde picked up his jar of mousse and Feitan scoffed loudly. 

“What?” Phinks asked, offended.

“Hair is stupid,” Feitan sighed, “no one here to see. Leave it.” It had been days since Phinks had skipped doing his hair, and Feitan found himself overcome by the desire to watch it flopping around in the burning sun. 

Phinks pouted. “You think my hair is stupid? Fuck you, man, at least I don’t look like an actual spider. Ever heard of a hairbrush?” He stared at the pot of product in his hand, going red at the idea of his friend having any thoughts at all about how he wore his hair. The jar was quickly shoved back into the bag. 

“My hair nice,” Feitan teased, “You like it on your face last night.” His ears burned at his own boldness and he flipped onto his back again, pointedly staring into his book. The words swam in front of him. 

The blonde spider chuckled nervously, relieved that his friend wasn’t witnessing the blush spreading down his neck. He touched his small scab gently. Feitan’s lips had been so soft—but he needed to stop thinking about that. 

“Sure,” he laughed, “yeah, it was warmer than sticking my head out of the blanket.” He stretched his arms behind his head, trying to appear indifferent. “I guess you’re right, though, about how there’s nobody to give a shit what we look like. Hell, if you were anyone else I’d say I was surprised you’re still wearing so much clothing when it’s this damn hot.” 

Feitan lowered his book slowly, tilting his head across the floor to look up at his friend. His eyes were full of questions and implications that sent a chill down Phinks’ spine. The blonde started to stammer something,  _ anything _ other than the casual suggestion that Feitan disrobe, sensing immediately that he’d crossed some sort of line. But his thoughts were too slow and his mouth was too dry to speak. Feitan’s collar hung low around his neck as he shifted his weight, dragging one knee closer to his body at an angle that allowed his robe to fall open across the floor. He spread it out carefully with a slow hand, keeping his eyes on Phinks the whole time. 

“Fei?” Phinks asked, but it was barely a whisper, and the black-haired boy just smirked. He pointed one leg into the air, running his hand through the cutouts to stroke his spider tattoo. 

“Very hot,” he said agreeably, “you think?” 

Phinks was bright red. Feitan laughed, a slow, languid sound that trailed off with his tongue lolling lazily out from his lips. Slim fingers hooked under the hem of the pants and lifted the fabric, exposing a few concealed spider legs inked into his pale skin. He let his other hand drift to his stomach and slowly pushed his robe up a bit further. He gave Phinks a devious smile, daring him to take the bait. 

“W-what the hell are those pants?” Phinks finally gasped. 

Feitan scowled and slammed his foot down on the concrete, adjusting his robe with a small grumpy noise. “Just pants,” he grumbled, “Machi give me. Holes for knives.” He yanked the jade knife Phinks had given him from a small sheath along his thigh, holding it to his own neck with a bored expression. “Easy,” he explained. 

“Oh,” Phinks replied. His voice seemed much smaller than usual. He forced himself to bring his eyes up to Feitan’s and stop staring at the shadows of his legs against his robe. “Well, I, uh,” he stammered, “if you’re not too hot, don’t let me tell you how to live. I’m, uh. I think I’m gonna go for a walk.” He dipped through the doorway before Feitan could respond, lighting a cigarette with shaking hands.

“Fuck,” he sighed on the exhale, “what was that?” Phinks stood in the crumbling staircase and stared up at the floor he’d left, his vision swimming with the image of Feitan’s pale fingers flitting across the black ink of his spider tattoo. He’d seen it before, of course—after all, they’d gotten theirs as a matching pair, one on each thigh—but it hadn’t crossed his mind in years. He could feel himself growing hard in his track pants as his mind lingered on his friend’s legs. He cursed under his breath again and clattered down the stairs, desperate to escape from Feitan’s merciless teasing. 

Feitan angrily threw a knife at the wall. A second blade chased after it. He followed that one with another, and another, until all he had left was the jade piece from Phinks. “Stupid Phinks,” he muttered to himself. He was now quite convinced that Phinks harbored no attraction towards him, that the blonde’s nervous reactions were entirely due to the implied topic of sex as a general fact rather than a wish not to be caught crushing on Feitan. Perhaps he wasn’t like Shalnark and Uvo at all, and only saw Feitan as a sort of younger brother. The small spider grunted in frustration and pulled his robe off. It  _ was _ hot, after all. If Phinks had stayed, Feitan told himself, he definitely would’ve let him see him undressing. And then he reminded himself that Phinks had no interest in seeing him undressing, which was why he hadn’t stayed. He scowled at the pile of black clothes and wandered downstairs, leaning on his umbrella in the doorway. He didn’t have a plan. The book from Shizuku was boring him, Phinks was nowhere to be seen, and there was nothing to do in this shitty desert ghost town but wait and stare at the sun. Feitan sighed angrily and rambled towards the bathhouse, deciding to check for any valuable stones lodged in the tiles. 

The sun was blistering the skin on the back of Phinks’ neck but he couldn’t stop running, circling the outskirts of the little town over and over as his mind chased its own thoughts. He felt dizzy whenever he paused. His sneakers pushed uselessly against the soft sand. The air was hot and dry in his lungs, forcing his brain to redirect its energy from the tantalizing image of Feitan spread across the floor and focus on pumping oxygen through his veins. 

So, Feitan had definitely figured out that Phinks was into him. And he was using it to mock him, to set him up, likely expecting the distraction and embarrassment to take a toll on Phinks’ work during this upcoming assignment. That way, Feitan would win any bet they placed. They always placed bets. Phinks grinned in spite of himself at a memory: he and Feitan on an early job together in an old greenhouse, shouting through the misty leaves that whoever broke the most glass got to pick what they had for dinner that night. Chrollo was furious at the irresponsible amount of destruction, warning them not to draw so much attention in the future if they wanted to keep their lives. Phinks would’ve shrugged it off if not for Feitan’s quiet, obedient nod. Feitan chose seafood that night, Phinks remembered, specifically requesting scallop risotto when they were in the middle of a landlocked mountain range. He’d begged Shalnark to track some down and stolen a motorcycle, whipping through the snowy foothills with Feitan clinging to his back in search of a small restaurant in a faraway town. The memory of Feitan wrapped around him on the motorcycle brought back the memory of Feitan cuddled up against him last night, the unbelievably casual way his leg had drifted across Phinks’ ankles. He stopped running. Each breath was a sharp, hot wheeze as he tried to think. Was Feitan really just messing with him, or did he actually want to be near Phinks, too? This was the second time today such an improbable thought had crossed his mind, and he felt like his stomach was going to crawl out of his throat if he didn’t get some answers soon. But he couldn’t. There was no way he could ask. He suddenly wished Chrollo was reachable, wondering if their leader would have any insight on this subject. The uncaring sand glared up at him and he took off running.


	3. Liar, Liar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> this one has smut.

Sunset dragged itself across the hazy sky, pulling the blue down and replacing it with a shifting sea of reds. Feitan blinked at the sudden realization that there was almost no light left in the factory and stood up to light a candle. The first cold breeze slipped through a cracked window and he smiled. “Too cold alone,” he mumbled to himself. Alone. He frowned again, wondering where Phinks had been all day. It wasn’t quite dark yet but it would be soon, and his friend hadn’t even brought water out into the scorching desert heat. He sighed and pulled his shirt on, reaching into his bag for a thin hooded sweater. The robe was still crumpled on the floor near the wall full of knives. Feitan glided over and pulled them each out, tucking them away in his pockets just in case someone other than Phinks came through the door. His ears perked up at the sound of feet slapping outside. The cadence matched his friend’s long stride and he grinned in spite of himself, swallowing the smile as quickly as it had appeared. 

Phinks bounded up the stairs and tumbled into the room, panting as though he’d been chased by wolves. “Hey, Fei,” he wheezed. Feitan nodded in response, shyly pulling his cloak over his lap to cover the holes of his trousers. Phinks didn’t notice. He chugged an entire bottle of water, letting out an enormous whoop as he wiped the sweat from his brow. His hair stuck to his skin in an odd arrangement Feitan last remembered seeing in their earliest years, before Phinks began styling his hair regularly. He forced himself to look at his book as the blonde tugged his robe over his head and sat down with a heavy thunk.

“So,” Phinks panted, “what are you reading over there?” He leaned back on his hands, determined to convince Feitan that his teasing couldn’t throw him off anymore. 

Feitan shrugged without looking at him. “Book,” he replied drily. 

Phinks snorted and rolled his eyes. He reached forwards and snatched the book from his friend’s hands, nimbly taking to his feet to hold it up out of reach. His nose wrinkled. “Jesus, Fei, you don’t get enough torture in your real life? Gotta read books about people getting cut to death?” He tossed the novel back down, exhaling a bored sigh. He could feel Feitan’s glare boring a hole through his sunburnt neck. 

“Not torture, baichi, is love story. Met-a-por,” Feitan said slowly. He hated trying to explain what he was reading, knowing he wasn’t quite capable of conveying the complex themes and characterizations as he understood them. “He think is torture because she no love him, stupid like that. Death not by cut but heart breaking. Stupid. Heart no break, heart bleed,” Feitan elaborated. His tongue felt heavy. None of these words were the ones he sought, but he was embarrassed enough by the admission that he’d accidentally brought along a romance novel instead of his usual horror fare. “Shizuku give me. Not very good.” He watched the other man anxiously, waiting for a response. 

Phinks seemed lost in thought. He wandered to the windows and roughly shoved one open, leaning out between the steel frames to light a cigarette. His blonde hair looked like gold in the fading sun. 

“See, this place would be a lot nicer if it was always this temperature,” Phinks stated vaguely. His foot tapped the floor nervously as he stared out at the sunset. Winds were just starting to dance through the distant dunes, pulling soft spirals of sand into the warm evening air. The other buildings sank deep into their long shadows as the light continued to slip away. Phinks was hoping that he could distract himself from thinking about Feitan: his legs, the smell of his hair, how easily he fit against his side, the fact that he was apparently reading a love story on this trip. 

“Shizuku, huh?” Phinks asked over his shoulder. Feitan grunted something inaudible, annoyed by how distracted his friend seemed. 

Phinks sighed. He’d never expected to hear Feitan say the word “love,” and he was a bit surprised he knew what it meant. “Love” was not in the cards for people like them, murderers and thieves and selfish bandits. But whenever they went off on missions as a pair, or lingered in dingy buildings in Meteor City, or met up for drinks in bloodstained hotel rooms, he couldn’t help imagining what it would be like to spend the rest of his life beside Feitan, to wake up and drink coffee and grow a garden, or whatever it was that normal people did together. But if that girl Machi was friends with had given Feitan a romance novel, Phinks had to assume she’d meant it flirtatiously. And Feitan reading it... Phinks sighed again. He wondered how much time those two spent together that he didn’t know about. 

Sand crunched under Feitan’s feet as he stood. The concrete floor was still warm from the day’s sun, but an unexpected shiver ran down his spine as he stepped towards Phinks. He cleared his throat. Before he could speak, Phinks was turning, taking the cigarette from between his teeth and pressing it to Feitan’s lips without another word. Feitan sputtered in shock but caught it between two fingers, coughing lightly as he stared at it. 

“Oh, sorry,” Phinks chuckled, “figured you’d want one.” The smaller man’s confusion wore off after another second and he straightened his expression, taking a slow drag. 

“Yes,” he exhaled. The wind flung a brief gust through the window and Phinks frowned at the sun, shifting his body to throw shade over Feitan’s face. He took out another cigarette. Feitan watched his friend’s hands turn the slim cylinder end over end three times on the way to his mouth. The flare of the lighter drew him another step closer. Phinks leaned back on the wall, giving his friend a confused look as he exhaled. 

“So,” Phinks started, “learn any new words?” 

Feitan shrugged and hopped onto the windowsill, straddling one leg out into the air. He blew a small puff of smoke in the blonde’s face before answering. “Hydrangea, accismus, billiards,” he announced proudly. The words didn’t sound as nice out loud as they had in Feitan’s head but Phinks still smiled, his expression so full of genuine excitement it made Feitan nervous. 

“What’re those, Fei?” Phinks asked as he rolled his head to the side. He sometimes wondered if his friend made words up to test him with how strange they sounded. It wouldn’t make a difference if he did: Phinks had never had the patience to read long books. He was too distractible. 

Feitan managed to explain hydrangeas (big flowers) and billiards (game like pool) but he got stuck when he tried to repeat “accismus.” That particular page in the dictionary had turned out to be one of the water-logged ones. He stubbed the cigarette on the glass and hopped down, drifting towards his book. 

Phinks watched Feitan move. He was a dark blot on the sprawling concrete floor, a shifting shadow trailing through the hot fire of the spilled sunset. Phinks wondered if Feitan’s body was warm from sitting in the factory all day. He wondered if he could convince his friend to read to him, just a chapter, like they used to when they were kids. He watched and wondered for what felt like an eternity but was only a few seconds as Feitan absentmindedly lifted his cloak from the ground and threw it over his shoulders. When Phinks took his next breath, Feitan was standing near him again. He held the book up and pointed to the word he’d underlined. 

“Ackismiss,” Feitan tried again. When Phinks shrugged, Feitan sighed out the whole sentence, trying to elaborate on the necessary contextual elements. It made him feel stupid. “She... only thing she want and she no take,” he stammered, “accismus another word of stupid?” 

“I’ve, uh, never heard it, Fei,” Phinks responded nervously. “S-sorry.” He fumbled under his robe for a third cigarette, suddenly drowning in anxiety. “You’re, uh, a little smart for me, buddy,” he added with a wince. 

“If we want, we take, yes?” Feitan asked quietly. Something had clicked in rereading the passage for Phinks, an understanding of why the character might try to deny her desire for the jewels. She was worried about what others might think. Feitan had never harbored such concerns: he’d existed in the shadowy fringes of society for as long as he could remember, already so strange and feral when he met his current friends that most of them had been terrified to approach him. Not Phinks, though. Feitan looked up at his tall friend, remembering how insistent Phinks had been on befriending him when they were boys. He’d always wondered why. Why him? Why would Phinks be so drawn to Feitan from the very beginning and yet be afraid to be near him now? The only thing that had changed had been sharing that blanket.

Phinks struggled to meet Feitan’s unreadable gaze, completely bewildered as to what he could be concentrating so hard on. Feitan’s lilting whisper saying “Another word for stupid” rang in his ears. He knew he wasn’t as much of a reader as his friend, but he’d been trying to learn more recently, understand history and politics and the layout of the world. Chrollo and Paku liked practicing new languages with him (even if they both knew very well why he wanted to learn, at least they were polite enough not to say so.) He fidgeted with the sleeves of his robe. The feeling of fabric under his fingers suddenly made him very self-conscious and he froze, remembering Feitan’s earlier comment about his pharaoh getup being stupid. Maybe he was still thinking about how ridiculous Phinks always looked. He coughed awkwardly. 

“I’m getting cold, lemme grab my jacket,” he barked. He jumped past Feitan and tore the robe over his head, shivering as the evening air blew over his bare arms. Feitan scowled after Phinks. The blonde tugged his jacket on and zipped it all the way up before looking at him again. 

“Sorry,” Phinks chuckled nervously, “what were you saying?” 

“We want, we take. Ack-sis-mus,” Feitan pronounced carefully, “She want, she say she don’t want. Stupid, right?” 

“R-Right,” Phinks stammered. He felt a bit sick. Feitan took another step closer.

“Phinks. We want, we take. We no lie,” he said quietly. 

The blonde swallowed. “Yeah?”

Feitan nodded, narrowing his eyes. He couldn’t figure out how to ask the questions he wanted to ask. He took the cigarette from Phinks’ mouth and inhaled, blowing the smoke gently into his face. He smirked at the terrified look on his friend’s face. “Phinks scared again,” he observed in a low voice. The tone didn’t quite have its usual edge, but it still weighed heavily on the blonde’s shoulders. He shook his head and desperately searched for a response. Feitan moved closer, tilting his head back to gaze up at his friend through lidded eyes. 

Phinks stared pointedly at the window and stepped to the side, shoving his trembling hands into his pockets. The urge to kiss Feitan was overwhelming. His thoughts swam in dizzying circles around the desire and the fear of alienating his friend forever, sparking a panic deep in his stomach. If he’d turned, he’d have seen the disappointment that flashed across Feitan’s face before his expression contorted into rage. 

“Phinks,” he said threateningly. The blonde coughed and turned to grin at him, hoping his nonchalance was convincing. “What is wrong?” Feitan spat. He stormed over and jabbed a thin finger into his friend’s chest. “You no tell something and you, you strange,” he added. His voice twisted and he threw the half-finished cigarette to the ground, stomping it out angrily. 

The pain of rejection was burning inside of Feitan strongly enough to flood the room with a prickling aura. Phinks started to sputter a response and fell backwards, scrambling away from Feitan’s building rage. 

“C-calm down, Fei,” he begged, “I’m not—I’m not scared, I’m not, hiding anything, or whatever! Seriously!” 

His next breath was interrupted by a warm blade on his throat. Feitan stood over him, holding the jade knife under his chin. Phinks nearly passed out as the realization of where the knife had been pulled from hit him. 

“Phinks lies,” Feitan hissed. He bent down until their noses were almost touching, his thin legs straddling the tall man’s curled knees. “Why should I share blanket with liar? Wimpy boy, baichi who not say what he thinks?” He pressed the knife harder against his friend’s neck. 

Phinks panted a few rasping breaths through his open mouth, unable to tear his eyes away from the smaller man’s lips. He was moving before he registered the thought, arms coming up to take Feitan’s wrists and pin them behind his back, eyelids falling shut and head moving forward until his nose crashed into Feitan’s face. Feitan’s eyes went wide as Phinks kissed him. The blonde’s eyes were squeezed shut, his lips anxiously pressed against Feitan’s shocked mouth. He dropped back almost immediately. 

“Oh, no,” Phinks gasped, releasing Feitan’s wrists and making to pull himself out from under his body. 

“Liar, liar,” Feitan teased as he leaned in. He quickly licked his friend’s neck, snickering at the soft whimper this produced. Thin fingers carded through thick blonde hair and tugged it into a rough kiss. Feitan smirked against the blonde’s mouth and Phinks fell to his elbows, suddenly desperate to escape again. 

“Fei?” He asked nervously. The smaller man placed a hand on his chest and pushed him to the floor. 

“Yes?” Feitan asked in his teasing sing-song. 

“Why... why are you doing this?” Phinks asked quietly. His friend frowned at him, confused by the question. “I mean,” Phinks stammered, “you’re just... you’re just messing with me, right? Well, yeah, you got me. The joke’s over. You don’t have to keep kissing me now.” 

Feitan’s frowned deepened into anger. “What?” He hissed. “You still think I joke?” He poked Phinks in the chest, annoyed at the interruption. 

The blonde shook his head nervously. “I... I mean, yeah?” Phinks mumbled. 

Feitan sighed heavily and curled forward onto Phinks’ broad chest, closing his eyes in frustration. “You so stupid, Phinks,” he muttered. 

“Yeah, exactly,” his friend replied, “and you’re actually smart, so... you knew, right? And that’s why you’ve been teasing me? Well, you won, Fei, you don’t have to keep playing.” 

The small man shook his head slowly, trying to figure out how he could possibly be clearer about wanting Phinks. “So this is a game for you?” He asked quietly. The body beneath him squirmed awkwardly. 

“No, I... I dunno, I obviously like it, I mean, I’m not like, weak, or, um,” Phinks stammered, “I just figure, well, Shal probably put you up to this, or maybe that Shizuku chick, or somebody, and—and there’s probably a bet, or—something.” He closed his eyes as he trailed off. Feitan remained motionless, adding to Phinks’ concerns. “I’m, I’m sorry I kissed you, man, I can leave if you want,” he breathed. 

A small snort reverberated in his chest and Feitan sat up, crossing his arms. “Yes,” he said drily, “clearly I not want kiss.” 

Phinks started to move but Feitan’s glare froze him in place. “Phinks, we want, we take. I keep saying. I never take a thing I not want.” His fingers dropped to the zipper of his friend’s jacket, slowly tugging it open. “No bet, no Shalnark, no Shizuku, just Phinks and Feitan,” he said angrily. He could feel the breath catch in Phinks’ chest and he sighed. 

“Stop accismus,” Feitan murmured, and leaned down to place a gentle kiss on the blonde’s neck. Phinks squeaked and Feitan couldn’t help laughing, kissing his neck again and again until the large man was writhing beneath him and nervous hands were traveling up his body again. 

“Oh,” Phinks gasped. It was all he could say. He turned his head and kissed Feitan again, pressing into him with such force that he sat up. He breathed out a sigh that seemed to empty his entire body.

Cold wind whipped around the pair and Feitan shivered, sitting back to glance at the blanket. He grinned. “You so easy to tease,” he snickered. Phinks felt his face going red. He started to sputter a retort but Feitan grabbed his hair and yanked him into another kiss, pressing his small tongue into the other man’s mouth. Phinks let out a shocked grunt that morphed into a moan as he kissed back. He clutched a fistful of black hair with one hand and let the other fall on Feitan’s hips, dragging them lower into his lap. A small, contented sigh sent fire racing through his blood and he pulled his body closer. His hands traveled up Feitan’s sides, roaming anxiously as he tried to memorize the shape of his body. Feitan pressed into Phinks. His kiss was insistent, firm and impatient and greedy, his head turning slowly as he ground down again. Their lips parted for a split second and Phinks gasped for air, finally opening his eyes to see his friend‘s dark eyes a few inches from his face. Those eyes didn’t wait long before disappearing down his neck with a gentle mouth. Feitan tugged at his zipper and Phinks quickly obeyed the silent command, pulling the jacket open and reaching out to drag his hips forward. Teeth grazed just below his ear and he gasped. A dark giggle was quickly followed by a sharp bite and Phinks moaned again, grabbing roughly at the hem of his friend’s tunic. 

“Can I—“ 

“Yes, baichi.”

Feitan shivered slightly as his outer layer was peeled over his raised arms. “You cold, Fei?” Phinks asked softly. His mouth landed on Feitan’s cheek, his jaw, his pale neck. 

“Ohh,” Feitan breathed. He unconsciously grasped at his friend’s hair to pull him closer and the blonde chuckled. 

“Do you see why I freaked out?” He murmured, slowly trailing his tongue down Feitan’s neck. 

“Y-yes,” Feitan replied breathlessly, “Wanted too much.” He dove back into Phinks’ mouth and shoved his jacket away, sliding a cold hand under his tank top. Phinks hissed and Feitan pulled back. 

“Your hands are just cold,” the blonde explained nervously. He quickly slipped his hands under the smaller man’s shirt and gripped him tightly. Feitan let out the tiniest moan as the large, warm hands pressed against his spine. His own fingers ran across a hardening nipple and circled it slowly, earning a delightful gasp that drew him deeper into the other’s body. 

A firm shove and Phinks was flat on his back, staring up at Feitan with wide eyes as the smaller man grinned at him. He tilted forwards to press his lips to Phinks’ shirt before sitting back to grind down, locking their eyes together as he did. His cock strained against his briefs and he closed his eyes, enjoying the feeling of his friend’s hard, warm body beneath him. A soft whine escaped the larger man and he just smirked. Phinks slid a hand onto Feitan’s thigh through one of the cutouts, pushing upwards to press his thumb as close to his groin as he could. Feitan hummed happily and moved his hips a bit faster. A cold gust of wind howled through the open window but he barely registered it, too focused on the heat of his friend’s cock pressed against his own through their pants. Phinks groaned again and tried to sit up but Feitan’s hands on his chest sent a clear message that he was not in charge here. 

“Fei, I,” he started, inhaling his thoughts as a small hand pinched one of his nipples, “Feitan.” 

“Mmm?” Feitan responded without opening his eyes. 

“I want to kiss you,” Phinks breathed quietly. His friend laughed and he blushed at the feeling of his hips shaking atop him. “Please?” Phinks whined. Feitan smirked down at him. 

“What else?” He teased, slowly dragging two fingers from Phinks’ sternum to his navel. The blonde’s breath shook as he tried to come up with a response. 

“I, uh, I want whatever, whatever you want, Fei,” he stammered, “I just want to touch you, please.” 

“Sit up,” Feitan murmured. Phinks obeyed quickly, instinctively reaching his arms around his friend’s small frame. Cold hands tugged at his shirt and he raised his arms up, allowing Feitan to strip him to his skin. Soft lips found his neck and he moaned quietly. He pulled Feitan’s body as close as he could and kissed him deeply, cradling his head in one large palm as their forms curled together. Feitan sighed contentedly and lazily draped his arms around his neck. Phinks cupped a hand around his ass and squeezed, earning a surprised squeak as his friend jerked into him involuntarily. He grinned into Feitan’s shoulder. The smaller man rocked his hips forward again, releasing a quiet moan into his hungry mouth when the strong hands gripped him even tighter. 

Phinks abruptly shifted his weight to the side, rolling their bodies to the floor until he could push up on his hands and kneel over Feitan. Black hair spread a dark halo around his pale face and Phinks opened his mouth in quiet shock, whispering, “Oh, shit.” 

Confusion twisted Feitan’s eyebrows as he gazed up at the blonde. “What?” He asked nervously. 

“I’m, uh, you’re really, uh, cute, Fei,” Phinks stammered. He sat back on his knees, suddenly overwhelmed by the reality of his best friend splayed out on the floor before him,  _ for _ him. Pale blush crept up Feitan’s cheeks as he shook his head slightly. He pushed up onto his elbows and tried to come up with a reply but then Phinks was kissing him again, holding the back of his neck firmly enough that Feitan felt his body going limp. He broke the kiss just long enough to tear his shirt off before clutching his friend’s head and sinking back to the floor. 

Cold sand blew over them and Phinks ducked, covering Feitan as much as he could in a tight embrace. Feitan giggled lightly and kissed his warm chest, thrilled by the sound of his pounding heart. “Baichi, is cold,” he murmured, pressing his lips to his chest again. Phinks responded by wrapping Feitan in a bear hug and tumbling across the floor with a gleeful cackle, snatching the blanket from a collapsing shelf and flinging it haphazardly over their bodies. The smaller spider tried his best to look annoyed at the indignity of being rolled around but he couldn’t help returning his friend’s smile. A strong hand tugged him onto Phinks’ lap and he ground into him again, desperate for any friction he could find. Phinks sucked a dark hickey onto his neck and Feitan hissed his name as he clawed at his hair. 

“Fei,” Phinks growled in his ear, “I wanna fuck you so bad.” Feitan shivered slightly as a warm hand slipped into his thigh cutouts again. “Please, Fei,” Phinks sighed, “I’ll do anything you want.” 

“Mmm, anything?” Feitan asked teasingly. Phinks froze and he laughed, gently stroking a hand down his spine. 

“Ummm, almost anything,” he mumbled into Feitan’s neck. “I’m sure you could come up with something I wouldn’t be able to handle.” 

Their lips met again as Feitan smiled. His thoughts roamed to all the ways he’d like to tease Phinks, like to make him squirm and whine until he was truly begging for Feitan’s body. But for now he was overwhelmed with his own lust. Before this trip, he’d never let his imagination wander past kissing Phinks, unable to picture his friend touching him at all even when he was jacking off to the thought of his body. Warm hands gripped his sides firmly and he inhaled sharply. He took hold of the blonde’s neck, tilting his chin up with a firm press of his thumb. 

“Hmmm,” Feitan murmured thoughtfully. He could feel Phinks’ hardness between his legs and he rocked his hips, delighted by the flicker in his eyes as he did so. Every tiny breath, every hair that raised itself at the touch of another’s skin, every single detail of their bodies together was entirely new to him, and he wanted to remember everything. He dragged his tongue slowly along Phinks’ neck before kissing him deeply. The blonde moaned. 

“So impatient,” Feitan teased quietly. He gasped as Phinks slipped his hands under the waist of his pants and gripped his ass tightly, grinding their hips together. 

“Yeah,” Phinks growled, “I just want you.” Feitan shivered against his lips. “Still cold?” Phinks asked softly. One warm hand slid up Feitan’s spine, pulling him into the heat of his friend’s body. 

“Mmhmm,” the small man replied. He kissed Phinks’s neck slowly, losing his train of thought in the quiet gasps his lips and teeth could elicit. 

Phinks groaned and tugged at Feitan’s pants impatiently, fumbling with the complicated ties at his crotch. Feitan rolled his eyes and undid the knots in one fluid motion, letting the fabric fall away as his friend greedily ran his hands down his slender legs. Suddenly he was on his back again, gazing up at Phinks through heavily lidded eyes. His lips parted slightly at the sight: enormous, muscular arms framed his vision, connecting beautifully to broad, tan shoulders, all of it topped with his friend’s hungry eyes and glowing hair. A hand brushed over the bulge in his briefs and his hips bucked up. “Phinks,” he gasped, “don’t know how.” 

Phinks froze, the lust in his eyes clouding with concern. “Don’t know how to what, Fei?” Feitan shrugged, embarrassed by the admission. His friend sank to the floor beside him and touched his face gently. “Am I going too fast?” Phinks asked nervously. “I didn’t even—I’m sorry, I’m being an idiot, aren’t I? Ah, fuck.” He pulled his hand back and stared into Feitan’s eyes, anxiety choking his desire away. The small body beside him shrugged again, inching a bit closer. Phinks racked his brain for the words but couldn’t focus, too overwhelmed by the conflicting need to touch Feitan and the need to make sure they were on the same page. 

“Phinks?” Feitan asked quietly. He laid a small hand on his friend’s stomach, sliding to his hip to tilt his body closer. 

“I, um,” Phinks mumbled, “it didn’t occur to me—I guess I just assumed--we wanted the same thing.” His face went bright red as Feitan cocked his head inquisitively. 

“What do you want?” Feitan whispered. His hand traveled lower, tugging at the waistband of Phinks’ joggers. 

“Well,” Phinks gasped, “they, um, there’s a lot that peoooooh fuck.” The words flew from his mouth as Feitan’s hand slipped into his pants and down his hard length, cupping him carefully. 

“Hmm,” Feitan hummed, “say more, Phinks.” The blonde nodded nervously and opened his mouth again, struggling to focus on anything other than the slender fingers gently tracing his cock through his boxers. 

“I, well, what you’re doing is, definitely great,” he gasped, “a-and we can, oh, use our mouths, I guess, b-but, I think, what I was saying, at least, was—shit.” He closed his eyes as Feitan squeezed him, missing the devious smirk on the smaller man’s face.

Feitan’s cold fingers quickly tugged Phinks’ hot cock free from his boxers, his other hand taking a fistful of blonde hair and yanking it back. His hips pressed Phinks flat on the floor and he straddled him, dragging him to his elbows as the larger man whimpered slightly. 

“Eyes open,” he whispered. Phinks’ eyes flew open immediately. Feitan smiled at him and started to stroke him, moving his hand incredibly slowly. “What else does Phinks want?” He teased. 

“Fei,” was all Phinks could manage. Slim fingers circled the base of his cock and gripped him tightly, producing a small groan. His hips bucked but they were immediately pressed back to the floor. 

“Tell me,” Feitan murmured, leaning in to kiss his cheek softly. 

“You’re teasing me again, aren’t you?” Phinks moaned. 

Feitan shrugged. “Yes and no.” 

“I, I don’t know what you don’t know, Fei.” 

“You say you want fuck me. How? In mouth?” He opened his lips wide, letting his tongue dangle playfully. 

Phinks gulped. “I mean, d-definitely that, too,” he stammered. Feitan gave his cock a couple of quick strokes, laughing at the feeling of his hips jerking under him. 

“Fei,” Phinks whined, “you know damn well I wanna fuck you in the ass, goddammit, so please, just tell me if you don’t want to do that.” Feitan’s cheeks turned slightly pink at the honesty. He stood up, ignoring his friend’s sputtered apologies and reaching hands. The blanket fell loosely around Phinks’ sprawling legs. Feitan stepped forwards and grabbed his hair, tilting his head back to look up at him. He grinned at the desperation in the blonde’s eyes, how easy it was to have total control over such a large and powerful man. 

“Earn it, baichi,” he whispered with a smile, and he bit back a giggle at how wide those green eyes went in response. 

Phinks didn’t have to be asked twice. He shoved Feitan’s briefs out of the way and grabbed his cock, giving it a few quick strokes as he marveled at the sight of his best friend standing entirely naked over him. 

“I’ve never done this before, so I hope it’s okay,” he mumbled nervously. Feitan rolled his eyes and Phinks went red, leaning over to kiss the spider inked into his thigh before slowly dragging his tongue across his balls. His tongue traveled up the length of Feitan’s slender cock, tentatively twirling around the pink head for a few seconds as he watched Feitan’s face. The smaller man’s eyes were closed and Phinks smiled nervously before taking him in his mouth. 

“OH,” Feitan yelped. Phinks snorted accidentally, the vibration making his friend’s hips jump forward. He was only able to get a few inches in before he choked and reared back, using his hand to spread his saliva down. He sucked the tip lightly again before opening wider and guiding Feitan deeper into his mouth. Thin fingers tightened in his hair as he sucked and he moaned, earning a soft gasp from above him. Without thinking he started to stroke himself at the same pace, using his other hand to press Feitan’s hips closer. Feitan suddenly pulled away and slapped him across the face hard enough to make Phinks yelp in shock. 

“What was that for?” He sputtered. 

Feitan grinned. “Phinks hands are for me, not for Phinks,” he teased, loving the way his friend’s eyes widened in realization. 

“I’m sorry,” Phinks squeaked shamefully. 

“Take off your pants, baichi, you look stupid,” Feitan said softly. Phinks complied as quickly as he could, tossing the joggers aside and tugging Feitan back into his mouth. The small spider’s lips fell open in shock as his friend swallowed him whole. Soft, wet noises filled the cold air and Feitan bit back a moan, reluctant to fully give in to the sensations. A bead of saliva ran down the side of his legs and he grabbed Phinks’ hair again, fucking his mouth more aggressively. Strong hands pulled at his asscheeks and he whined. His knees buckled slightly as Phinks pulled back to suck on his balls. 

“Fei,” the blonde murmured, “ever had—“ 

“Fingers in me now,” Feitan gasped in response. Phinks grinned and stood up. 

“What are you—“ Feitan started, but Phinks leaned down to kiss the question away. Feitan scowled at the taste of his own sweat. 

“Bend over,” Phinks murmured as he pulled back. 

Feitan’s ears burned at the indignity of being told what to do. “I give orders,” he snapped. 

Phinks shrugged and slowly stroked himself, smirking at the hungry look Feitan gave his cock. “Do you?” He teased. “We both know I’m stronger.” 

Feitan’s eyes narrowed angrily but Phinks was already moving, knocking his legs out and catching him as he pressed him to the floor. He ground his erection slowly against Feitan’s ass, sucking another hickey onto the back of his neck. Feitan mewled and arched back into him. 

“That’s what I thought,” Phinks murmured. He jumped up again, tripping over his own feet as he scrambled for his duffel bag. He came back with a bottle of lube and a condom, grinning at the irritation in Feitan’s eyes. The smaller man was sitting up on his elbows, glaring at the blonde with the blanket wrapped around his quivering shoulders. 

“Aww, Fei, you look so cute,” Phinks said happily, “god, this is awesome.” Before Feitan could share his snappy retort Phinks was kissing him, one hand lacing itself into Feitan’s cold fingers against the concrete. 

“Wait, just thought of something,” Phinks whispered. Feitan groaned and fell back, snuggling deeper into the blanket as his friend rummaged in his bag again. Phinks carefully spread his tunic on the ground. He lifted Feitan from the floor and laid him gently on the makeshift sheets as he kissed him again. 

“I don’t wanna hurt you, and we really need to go slow for this part,” he murmured into his mouth. 

“Okay, baichi,” Feitan mumbled back. He nipped at Phinks’ bottom lip, tugging it away from his mouth with a smirk. Phinks whimpered softly and blindly grabbed for the lube, spilling it across his hands in his rush. 

Feitan tossed the blanket across Phinks’ back as he came in for another kiss. Something very cold pressed between Feitan’s legs and he flinched, held still by a strong, warm hand on his hip. His mouth fell open as a single thick finger pushed inside him. 

“Is this okay?” Phinks asked nervously. Feitan let out a soft whine and shoved his hips lower, suddenly desperate for more. Phinks gave a low whistle and pressed deeper. He realized after a few seconds that he’d been holding his breath, completely awestruck by the rising and falling of Feitan’s chest as he writhed in his hands. He pumped his hand slowly, not wanting to miss even the smallest twitch of the other’s body. A small hand found his neck and dragged him down into a kiss and he smiled big enough to break it, knocking their teeth together with a chuckle. 

“Why laugh?” Feitan gasped nervously. His legs climbed Phinks’ sides, finding just enough purchase to fuck himself down again. 

“Just happy,” Phinks mumbled into his neck. 

Feitan snorted. “So slow, baichi,” he whispered, nipping his ear. The blonde chuckled darkly and sat back, pulling his hand away entirely. Feitan sat up with an angry grunt but Phinks grabbed his wrists in one large hand and pinned them above his head, shoving him back to the floor with a rough kiss. Feitan shrieked into his mouth when two fingers suddenly shoved inside him, arching up into Phinks’ chest as though he was trying to escape his body. 

“Too much?” Phinks gasped, but Feitan shook his head firmly, straining his neck as he sought the other man’s mouth. 

“My hands, Phinks,” he whined, and Phinks just grinned down at him as he thrust his hand harder. Feitan’s back arched again as the pads of his friend’s fingers curled against a rough spot inside him and he cried out, trying to angle his hips so Phinks would keep hitting the same place. 

Instead, Phinks froze, dropping Feitan’s wrists with a look of panic. “Did I hurt—“ 

“PHINKS,” Feitan shouted, “DO NOT STOP!” 

“OH!” Phinks yelped back, moving his hand again. He quickly learned where exactly Feitan needed to be touched, drilling it attentively just enough to make the smaller man cry out before scissoring his fingers to stretch him open. 

Phinks kissed his way down Feitan’s body, drunk on the smell of his hair and his skin and his salty precum leaking from the shining tip of his cock. He sucked him into his mouth again, trying to time it right when his fingers pushed up against Feitan’s prostate. Feitan cursed in his own language and Phinks pushed harder, finally managing to fit his cock entirely down his throat. 

“Phinks,” Feitan moaned above him, “so close.” The blonde beckoned his fingers carefully inside him and Feitan’s hips bucked into his mouth, rewarding his efforts with some assistance. Hands dug into his scalp and he let Feitan take charge again, keeping his hand right where it needed to be as the smaller man brought his head down over and over again. Feitan cursed again, a breathy sigh in a language that always made Phinks’ heart swell. He actually felt bad when he abruptly stopped and rolled out of his reach. 

Feitan shrieked after him, scrambling in his wake and dragging sharp nails down his bare back. “Bastard,” he hissed, “bad joke, Phinks.” 

The blonde winced at the pain. “Just getting a condom, Fei, I thought you wanted me to fuck you?” His breath caught in his chest as a blade pressed against his throat. “Where did you—“ 

“I said earn, baichi, finish what you start.” 

“Oh,” Phinks breathed. He winced again as the knife was dragged to the side, held just lightly enough to prevent it from breaking the skin. “But I don’t know if you’ll want me to—“ 

“Shut up, Phinks,” Feitan growled. He hooked two fingers into the blonde’s jaw and yanked his head around, quickly shoving himself into his open mouth. Phinks grunted a protest but Feitan ignored him, clutching his head tightly as he fucked his mouth hard. He could feel the blonde choking but it just fueled the fire. “Idiot,” he hissed, “fuck, fuck you, oh, fuck.” His eyes rolled slightly as he buried himself in his friend’s mouth, legs twitching with the overwhelming release of his orgasm. He barely made a sound—just the tiniest “Ahh” as he emptied a hot load into that wet throat. When he stumbled backwards, Phinks was coughing and choking, sputtering angrily through teary eyes. 

“Fei,” he whined through his sticky mouth. He wiped his face, greedily licking the globs of cum that had slid from his lips. Feitan grinned and fell back to the floor, wincing slightly as his ass hit the concrete. 

“You look stupid,” Feitan teased. Phinks let out a low growl and dropped to all fours, tentatively crawling towards the pale body splayed in the light of the rising moon. He wasn’t sure if he’d earned the right to fuck him yet. He froze in place when Feitan slid a finger inside himself. The small man moaned softly and added another, fucking himself slowly as Phinks watched. 

“Jesus Christ,” Phinks gasped. Feitan giggled and scissored his fingers. He bit back a moan as he stretched himself, struggling to keep his eyes locked on the other man’s face. Phinks had already been a bit slobbery but now he was drooling, mouth hanging open in useless shock. 

“Come here, baichi,” Feitan whispered, “or do I do everything?” 

“So can I—“ 

“Phinks, fuck me, you idiot,” Feitan interrupted. 

The blonde scrambled towards him and tackled him, kissing him passionately as he angled his cock at his entrance. He pushed into Feitan slowly, knowing his cock was quite a bit larger than either of their fingers. Feitan squeezed his eyes shut in a confused mix of agony and ecstasy. 

“Too much?” Phinks asked anxiously. 

Feitan shook his head quickly, whispering, “go slow.” 

The blonde nodded and kissed his forehead, rocking his hips back and forth as carefully as he could. Even so, another inch and Feitan cried out, digging his nails deep into a muscular shoulder. Phinks froze, ignoring part of his brain that was screaming at him to go faster in response to the pain. 

“Fei, I just thought of something,” he murmured quietly. Feitan nodded but didn’t open his eyes, still trying to steady his breathing. Phinks wrapped him in his arms and rolled over, carefully settling Feitan on top of him with his dick still partially buried in his ass. 

“I know you were just complaining about doing everything, but this might work better,” he explained nervously. If the view of Feitan under him had been overwhelming, well, the image of him slowly lowering himself onto his cock was nearly enough to finish him off. Feitan grinned down at him and he suddenly realized his mistake.

“Don’t move,” Feitan said firmly. Phinks nodded, willing his hips to cooperate with the command. The small man raised himself up and then sank down slowly, smiling through a soft gasp of pain at the strained look on his friend’s face. Phinks reached for his hips and was swatted away, groaning loudly as Feitan rocked his hips back up. 

“Baichi,” he chided, “no moving.” 

“Fuck,” Phinks sighed.

On the next slow dive, Feitan accidentally hit his own prostate, moaning loudly as he increased his pace. His cock twitched back to life as he forgot about teasing Phinks. He moved as well as he could, struggling against gravity only to come slamming back down. The muscles in his legs burned. He loved it, every tiny flare of pain only serving to fuel the fire building in his stomach. A sharp whine in the shape of his name brought him back to reality. 

“Please let me touch you,” Phinks gasped, “please, Fei, god, you’re so fucking hot.” 

Feitan sank as low as he could and reached down, tugging Phinks up into a deep kiss. “Forgot you,” he murmured, giggling at the offended snort he got in response. Big, strong hands clutched his body closer and he sighed into them, grateful for the reminder that he was experiencing a waking fantasy. 

“Can I move yet?” Phinks asked. His voice was so thick with desperation it made Feitan laugh, delighted with this new form of torture he’d discovered. 

“Please,” Feitan whispered, “please, Phinks.” The blonde groaned and kissed him, slowly tilting their bodies back to the floor. 

“Any more rules I should know about?” He whispered. 

“Just fuck hard,” Feitan moaned. 

Feitan was on his knees without warning, Phinks shoving back into him so roughly it made him shoot up to his hands with a high-pitched curse. 

“Oh, harder?” Phinks teased, and Feitan grinned over his shoulder. 

“Yes, baichi,” he sang, rocking his hips back. His lover growled and thrust into him, earning another high yelp. 

“You like that, Fei?” Phinks grunted, “You like it when I fuck you?” 

“Aahha,” was all Feitan could manage. He was losing himself in the new feelings of being full and being dominated, his mind going blank at the realization that he’d never be able to overpower Phinks at this moment. 

“Fuck,” Phinks gasped behind him. His eyes closed involuntarily as he rutted into his small friend, trying to focus on going as long as he could. Feitan suddenly moaned and hopped back again and Phinks grinned, realizing which angle he needed to hit to earn that reaction again. He shifted his weight just enough to successfully pound into the right spot with each thrust. Feitan let loose a string of unintelligible curses as Phinks took hold of his cock, stroking it clumsily around his bouncing hips. 

“Cum for me again, baby,” Phinks grunted, “I wanna feel you cumming on my dick.” 

“Yes, baichi,” Feitan gasped, “don’t stop.” 

Phinks slowed just enough to get a better grip on the smaller man’s cock, thrusting deep inside of him with each stroke. Feitan cried out in his own language as he came again, his legs shaking with the overwhelming release. “Oh, god,” Phinks moaned. The muscles clenching around him were too much and his hips jumped forward once, twice, a third shuddering time as he finished, collapsing forward onto Feitan’s trembling form. 

They both lay motionless for a few moments, trying to catch up to their racing breaths. 

“Holy fuck,” Phinks whistled. He slid out of Feitan with a small grunt and pulled the condom off, tossing it lazily across the floor. Feitan rolled onto his back, arms splayed out like he’d just fallen from the sky. He was sore and sticky and unbearably happy, lost in what still felt like a dream. Phinks reached for his jacket and lit a cigarette. Feitan watched the smoke curl towards the ceiling with a lazy smile, reluctant to move lest he suddenly wake up without his friend beside him. The blonde looked down at him and went bright red. 

“We should, uh, clean you up, Fei,” he mumbled nervously. His friend tilted his head inquisitively. A few shining streaks of semen were dashed across his torso, the sand from the floor already somehow sticking to his body. Feitan wiggled his toes experimentally. 

“Legs say no,” he said dreamily. Phinks laughed far too loudly at this, pulling him up just enough to kiss him deeply. Feitan smiled at the taste of smoke and sweat in his mouth, lazily melting into the kiss. “Finish what you start,” he teased, throwing his arms around his friend’s neck. 

Phinks groaned as he tried to stand, nearly sending both of them crashing back to the floor. “Okay, let me grab our clothes and shit, and then I’ll carry you, you little brat.” 

Feitan shrugged and sprawled out on the tunic again. He watched the faint glow of Phinks’ cigarette shuffle around the room as the tall blonde picked up soap and boxers and a jacket. He closed his eyes, thinking about how very strange it felt to be touched so much. Warm arms scooped under him and he smiled. 

\-----------------

In the bathhouse, Phinks moved as slowly as he could. The moon wasn’t quite full but it was round enough to illuminate both of their naked bodies in the weak stream of water, and he wanted to commit every inch of Feitan to memory. But now was apparently not the time. Feitan stepped out of the water and shook himself dry, starting to pull on his clothes. Phinks frowned and turned away. He was trying to remember something Chrollo had helped him learn during one of their study sessions a few years earlier. They’d been discussing dead and dying languages, Phinks insisting on memorizing a few phrases he’d allegedly picked up out of a book. Chrollo had been kind enough not to point out that he knew the language Phinks was attempting to learn only had one speaker known to be alive. 

Small hands climbed his back, pulling his attention directly to his skin. “Very cold,” Feitan whispered as he trailed his fingers along one broad shoulder. 

“Y-yeah, we should go back soon,” Phinks mumbled. “Here, you can have my jacket.” Feitan smiled shyly and pulled it on over his shirt. The green track jacket reached his knees, making him look even smaller. Phinks felt like crying. “Sorry I forgot your pants,” he said instead. His companion shrugged and took his wrist, holding it thoughtfully. Phinks awkwardly pulled himself free to get dressed. He wasn’t sure where to go from here. Feitan shrugged and gestured towards the factory as though he’d read his mind.

The moon managed to look different from the factory. Perhaps it was the bottle glass windows warping the view, but Phinks felt that the glow of it had been replaced by a sensation of how heavy the floating rock must be. He frowned up at it from where he lay with his head in Feitan’s lap. The frigid weight of the moon seemed as though it might break through the windows, so he sat up, huffing hot air into his hands to warm them. Feitan reached out and gently placed two cold fingers on his cheek. 

“I have question,” he said quietly. 

Phinks nodded. His own hand drifted up to take Feitan’s, absentmindedly curling around his delicate digits with an instinctive need to warm them up. The smaller man leaned in slightly. 

“You like touch and hugs and kiss, but... just because? Or because of me?” He asked anxiously. His heart was pounding. He wasn’t sure he really wanted Phinks to answer, expecting the response to be the opposite of what he needed to hear. He’d been watching him. Watching his eyes flit to the moon, watching him stretch his arms behind his head with anxious exhales. He felt sure that Phinks was embarrassed—or worse, that he regretted the act entirely and was trying to dream up a way to make that clear.

Phinks blushed hard and gently pulled Feitan into a deep kiss, tenderly cradling his head in one broad hand as he did. Feitan pulled away again and stared blankly at him. 

“Answer,” he said as firmly as he could. 

The blonde racked his brain for the phrases he’d learned with Chrollo, trying to recall the ones he’d thought Feitan might not mock him for. He knew how to say how he felt in the standard tongue—at least, he knew how in theory, even if he didn’t apply that knowledge regularly. He took a deep breath and spoke slowly, careful to enunciate each syllable as accurately as he could. It felt like his whole life was riding on that phrase leaving his tongue correctly. His mouth seemed clumsier than usual around the unfamiliar syllables, so he translated himself immediately. “I, um, I’m all yours, Fei,” he breathed. He was rewarded by Feitan’s eyes going wide and he grinned. 

“Did I say that right?” 

“No, baichi.” 

Before Phinks could curse himself Feitan was kissing him, holding his face with both hands as tenderly as he’d ever touched anything. He broke away just to whisper the phrase again, emphasizing the one vowel Phinks had misplaced. 

“Oh,” Phinks mumbled stupidly. He pulled Feitan onto his lap and wrapped the blanket around his shoulders. “Well, I still mean it,” he grumbled. 

A small smile crunched Feitan’s eyes upwards. “Me, too.”


End file.
